I had a founder ask me yesterday, “How much money does an investor expect you to bootstrap with?”
The short answer I gave him, “It depends.”
The longer answer… well, there is no one number or specific range that investors look at. It’s a case-by-case scenario. Of course that’s not the answer he, nor you my reader, were hoping to hear. If I left you on that alone, I’d imagine this essay would be the single greatest contributor to my unsubscribe rate.
The real answer is that capital is not the unit of measurement. It can be, and may seem to be in today’s ever-increasing pace of development. Rather, it starts from a question. What is your minimum viable assumption? Something I’ve also alluded to before.
What is the minimum viable assumption? The big assumption you must prove in order to catalyze your startup’s growth. Or as Gagan Biyani, founder of Maven, puts it in the frame of minimum viable tests – “a specific test of an assumption that must be true for the business to succeed.”
Oftentimes, that assumption is synonymous to your the biggest risks of your business. Or in other cases, your biggest barriers to entry.
One of the questions we investors try to answer when we meet with a founder is: What is the biggest risk of this business? And is the person who can solve this risk in the room (or on the team slide)? It is one of a handful of risks we must underwrite to move forward with an investment.
Your ability to raise capital is directly correlated with your ability to inspire confidence in your investors that you will need little to no help getting to your next milestone. An unfortunate, but true paradox.
Circling back to the question that catalyzed this essay, how much money does an investor expect you to bootstrap with? The answer, as much as you need to prove your minimum viable assumption. Can you conquer the biggest risk of your business on your own capital? If you can, you’re halfway there. That may take $50K. Or maybe $10K. Or $100. Airbnb had to go through three different launches, and selling Obama O’s and Cap’n McCains for $40 per box, before Paul Graham noticed their traction. On the other hand, you have Mailchimp that’s 100% bootstrapped till the day they exited. Each business is different and unique in its own way.
The only addendum I would add here is that this same calculus will most likely not apply if you’re building something in deep tech – be it biotech or general AI or otherwise.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
Any views expressed on this blog are mine and mine alone. They are not a representation of values held by On Deck, DECODE, or any other entity I am or have been associated with. They are for informational and entertainment purposes only. None of this is legal or investment advice. Please do your own diligence before investing in startups and consult your own adviser before making any investments.
Recently, I stumbled across a captivating perspective on aphorisms via Tim Ferriss’ 5-Bullet Fridays. The Procrustean Bed. To be fair, before reading it on Tim’s newlsetter, I haven’t even heard of the concept. In one of his newsletters, he cites two incredible sources:
” ‘Something designed to produce conformity by unnatural or violent means. In Greek mythology, Procrustes was a robber who tied his victims to a bed, either stretching or cutting off their legs in order to make them fit it.’ (Source: Oxford Dictionary of English Idioms).
“Nassim Taleb has a related book of aphorisms titled The Bed of Procrustes. He explains the title thusly: ‘Every aphorism here is about a Procrustean bed of sorts—we humans, facing limits of knowledge, and things we do not observe, the unseen and the unknown, resolve tension by squeezing life and the world into crisp commoditized ideas, reductive categories, specific vocabularies, and prepackaged narratives, which, on the occasion, has explosive consequences.’ “
Down the investing rabbithole
There exist a number of aphorisms in the investing world. Chief of which reads “buy low, sell high.” Public market assets are quite liquid. Hypothetically, you can cash out whenever you want. Such liquidity has paved way for psychological inconsistencies to maximize gratification. In language with unnecessary jargon redacted, the option to sell is less motivated by rational thinking but more by fear of losing money – loss aversion. If you invest $100 into the public market, you can choose if you want to cash out at $95, $90, or $120 or $200. While there is a non-zero chance of you losing your entire principal, chances are you’ll liquidate your positions before that happens.
On the other hand, private market investments are illiquid. Upon investment, there is no liquid market in which you can sell immediately. At best, you have to wait 3-5 years before a rapidly marked-up investment creates opportunities for distributions in the secondary market. In other words, cash money while companies are still private. In the private markets, your principal either appreciates in multiples, rather than percentages, or bottoms out. Any in-betweens will neither make or break your investment strategy, and are often out of your immediate control. So in this case, illiquidity is a feature, not a bug.
The notion of exiting positions as a private market investor, therefore, gravitates towards a singularity – when you make a damn good investment. The only time you really have an option to choose whether you can sell or not, when otherwise, it becomes a tax write-off or a small exit outside of your immediate control.
When should you sell?
Should you ever sell?
And if you sell, how much should you sell?
To answer all the above questions…
With the help of Shawn and Ratan, I wrote a blogpost on how to think about exiting positions at the beginning of this year. A topic of which I am still very much a rookie at, which may be quite apparent in this essay as well. Nevertheless I’m going to try to elaborate more on the notion of selling positions as an early-stage investor.
In a memo earlier this year, Howard Marks wrote that there are two main reasons people choose to sell: “because they’re up and because they’re down.”
When “they’re down”
Let’s start with the latter. When “they’re down.” Like I mentioned before, there are often very few options to sell when things are down. While I’m not proud that these investors exist in the early-stage private markets, I’ve seen and heard of some investors who try to make a last ditch effort to regain some of their principal when the startup goes south. Selling off IP. As well as assets. Or forcing the founders to make a modest exit, so that the investors cap their downside. Maybe at best, this returns them 2x on their capital (rarely the case).
But let’s say that’s the “best” case scenario. And let’s say it’s a $25M Fund I, writing $250K checks. A 2x net return means they got back $750K. $750K is far from returning the $25M fund. Not even close to doing so. You need over 30 of those “exits” to just break even for your fund. So, if you’re an investor penny pinching here, you’re in the wrong game AND you’re going to lose out on the relationships with the founding team.
Why the wrong game?
Venture is a hit-driven business. It’s not about your batting average but about the magnitude of the home runs you hit. We bat for 100x returns, which also increases the probability of misses, determined by ability to return the fund or not. If you’re optimizing for local maximums, you’d probably do better as a public market investor.
And why do relationships matter?
One, the startup world is a smaller world than you think. People gossip.
Two, statistically, first swings at bat rarely work out. In research done by Cowboy Ventures, they found 80% of unicorns had at least one co-founder with previous founding experience. Paris Innovation Review also found that “86% started their project with a partner, after having created other companies.” Two of many otherstudies. So, even though this venture didn’t achieve financial success for an investor, the next might. Or the one after that. Assuming you bet on the right people, it’ll just take a couple iterations before timing, market, and product also match up. If you leave on bad terms on this deal, you won’t be able to get in when things do work out.
Three, what makes early-stage investing incredible is the relationships you build along the way. The ability to learn and grow with really smart people.
When “they’re up”
The question of if to sell often leads to controversial debate. I know of some investors who never sell any of their stock. And that if they sell, to them, it is a measure of their lack of faith in a founder. And they would never want to feel that they’re betting against the founders. That’s okay if you’re an angel. But if you’re a VC, you have a fiduciary responsibility to your investors, which means you’ll eventually have to sell.
The question of when to sell is often answered in broad strokes with laws around QSBS, which states that if you hold a qualified small business stock for longer than five years, you’re not subject to capital gains taxes in the US. But should you sell in the 6th year or 10th year? And under what market conditions? Do you sell in a boom market or on the precipice of a bust market? For a company you believe in the long-term potential, regardless of short-term fluctuations, I’m a big fan of what Bill Miller said in his Q3 2021 Market Letter. “We believe time, not timing, is the key to building wealth in the [market].”
But when things are going really, really, really well, it’s okay to take money off the table, even ahead of the end of the fund’s 10-year lifespan. In fact, Union Square Ventures generally sells 15-30% of their position in their top portfolio companies to distribute back to their LPs. Fred Wilson‘s personal framework lies around “[selling] one third of the position immediately, put one third away for a long term hold, and actively manage the other third.”
To most, including myself, the goalposts for selling how much seem arbitrary. USV sold 30% of their position in Twitter to return twice the entire fund. Menlo Ventures sold almost half of their stake in Uber when Softbank offered to buy. Whereas, Benchmark sold 15% of its Uber shares. I also have really smart friends who liquidate 50% of their stake in a token if a single cryptocurrency reaches double digit percentages of their net worth.
It’s all about the opportunity cost
In a game where arbitrage matters, and the “why” matter more than the “what”, it was love at first sight when Howard Marks shared his mental model on selling. He boils it down to the simple economic concept of opportunity cost:
“If your investment thesis seems less valid than it did previously and/or the probability that it will prove accurate has declined, selling some or all of the holding is probably appropriate.
“Likewise, if another investment comes along that appears to have more promise – to offer a superior risk-adjusted prospective return – it’s reasonable to reduce or eliminate existing holdings to make room for it.”
In sum, the option to sell is not an isolated decision, but rather one which considers the other investment opportunities you have available to you. For a number of VCs, this breaks into the calculus of recycling carry and what to use early distributions to invest in next. If you’re a VC with consistent AND high-quality deal flow, you’d probably want to reinvest. If you’re a VC without either of the two (i.e. only consistency or quality) or an emerging angel, your goal is to get both. In having both, you then have access to relative selection.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
Any views expressed on this blog are mine and mine alone. They are not a representation of values held by On Deck, DECODE, or any other entity I am or have been associated with. They are for informational and entertainment purposes only. None of this is legal or investment advice. Please do your own diligence before investing in startups and consult your own adviser before making any investments.
When winds and waves a mutual contest wage, These foaming anger, those impelling rage; Thy blissful light can cheer the dismal gloom, And foster hopes beyond a wat’ry doom.
– John William Smith, “The Lighthouse,” 1814
Marc Andreessenanswered a few weeks back to a question that has been ringing in many founders’ minds. What product do founders want to buy from investors? For the past few years, the natural answer rose as operational expertise. A notion that still holds true for the earliest stages of starting a business when you bring on strategic angels as small checks to help you find product-market fit. As you continue down the path and start raising institutional capital, the answer becomes more and more amorphous.
I've always thought the biggest thing a founder buys from a VC is a bridge loan of credibility in advance of tangible evidence.
Why do investors look for signal in the first place? A means to de-risk a very early, and very risky bet. A product of asymmetric information. Investors invest in lines not dots, but the truth is, most investors don’t have the time – luxury or ability – to see all lines. So what they must do instead is look for specific dots – be it traction, co-investors, or founding team “legitimacy” – that would help them trace out of a line of best fit. As Precursor’s Charles Hudson wrote earlier this week,
After 8ish years of pre-seed investing in 300+ companies, the biggest gap I see between VCs and founders is the relative weight placed on current traction by founders and the importance the next VC puts on market opportunity. Only gets bigger with each extra round raised.
1. Founders focus on traction – it's quantitative, many want fundraising to be deterministic (it isn't) 2. VCs have better market intel on what "great" traction looks like 3. For a co w top 10% traction, that can be the story. Applies to very few.
By definition, signal should be a leading indicator of long-term business value. Yet, for most investors in the world, what they look for are lagging indicators of conviction.
The signal paradox
In the investing world, there’s a paradoxical notion of signal. Through many conversations with syndicate leads, data teams of investing platforms, and LPs, I realized a common thread. For the majority of investors in the world, at the early stages, signal comes not from the founder, but from other funders.
In a syndicate, there are three things that make a deal move fast:
Great co-investors
Great traction
And, great team
Arguably in that order. Synonymously, as an emerging fund manager, the best way to raise from family offices* (I’ll explain below why FO’s are my reference point here) who are notoriously closed off to cold emails, you need:
Tier 1 VCs as your co-investors
Tier 1 GPs as your fund’s LPs
Or, deals that family offices wanted to get into anyway (which isn’t mutually exclusive from the above as well)
Quite noticeably, for many investors out there, signal comes in the form of people with a proven track record already. Or to break it down even more. Signal comes in the form of familiarity. Familiarity in the form of warm intros or college classmates or pattern recognition. The easiest pattern to follow for any investor without needing to do too much diligence or requiring too much personal conviction (I know, it’s funny), but to be able to write fast checks, is other top-tier investors. If you’re a founder who’ve fundraised before, you’re probably very familiar with this notion. Consciously or subconsciously. I’m gonna bet money that you’ve been asked, “Which other investors are you talking to? And how far along the process are you with them?” Or simply, “Do you have a lead investor?”
While there are some nuances to the last question, like the inability for smaller investors to pay for legal counsel fees, to have the resources to completely diligence a startup, or just that the check size required to lead/fill the round is just too large for them, generally speaking, my argument still stands. Put nicely, for many investors, they’re looking for external validation of the product. Put harshly, that question is a band-aid approach to their inability to get to conviction.
As a founder, you have to realize that capital has become a commodity. Investors are in the business of selling money. And subsequently, making $1 become $2. Or for a great early-stage investor, $1 becomes $5. There are many ways to underwrite risk. The one that requires the least amount of new thinking, or thought leadership, is following firms who have proven their investing acumen already and consistently.
*Additional context on family offices
I specifically mention family offices above since most LPs in Fund I’s are individuals and angels. Mostly small checks. And can quickly fill up the limit the SEC has set for how many accredited investors you can have investing in your fund. And their reason to invest is based on the founding GPs – very similar to why investors would back startups at the pre-seed stage.
While some GPs do pitch to institutional LPs (i.e. endowments, pension funds, fund of funds, etc.), very, very little institutional capital goes to Fund I’s and II’s – very similar to the fact that Tiger or Coatue very rarely invest before the A. You have yet to have a track record where they can fit into their financial model. They’re underwriting a very different type of risk. And so, if you’re a Fund I GP looking for larger checks, you’re looking to generational wealth in the form of family offices, who are surprisingly closed off to cold emails. But I digress.
The surplus of “signal” in 2021
In the last year, we’ve seen some record-breaking numbers. We’ve been in an exciting boom market. There have never been more venture dollars poured into the ecosystem. In fact, there were 1,148 concurrent unicorns in 2021. Half of which were new. In comparison, 2020 minted just 167 unicorns. Just looking at the two charts from Crunchbase below, we see just how crazy 2021 was.
And quite reflectively, there have never been as many “experts” in the market. To be fair, when everyone’s portfolio and/or startup is raising consecutive rounds of funding and mark ups are a dime a dozen, psychologically, I would also feel good about myself too. Everyone’s an “expert” in a boom market, especially if a16z or Tiger is leading the round. And a16z’s done double the number of deals they did in 2020. And Tiger’s invested 4 out of every 5 business days. In full disclosure, I did feel quite proud of myself as well. Nevertheless, I do my best to stay humble in this business.
Interestingly enough, while there were more seed, pre-seed and angel dollars going into startups, progressively, less startups were getting funded. Effectively, while the overall number of dollars invested look great, less founders come to bat. A smaller top of funnel means a more concentrated funnel in consecutive rounds.
The truth is fundraising will get harder over the next year and valuations won’t be as high. You can expect the current market correction in the public markets to soon be reflected in the private ones. So you may need to spend 12 months longer growing into your next round’s target valuation.
So where should investors look for signal?
In fairness, I am ill-equipped to answer this question for the masses. And most likely will never be fully equipped to make generalist statements. That said, I have and will continue to share what signal looks like for me. And if you’re a founder, here’s my template to conviction.
Two weeks ago, I broke down my sense of intuition around startup investing. I won’t go too deep in this essay, but I do share a more detailed internal calculus there. To put it simply, I look for different signals across the spectrum of idea plausibility and stages.
Signal by idea plausibility
Idea Plausibility
Key Question
Context
Plausible
Why this?
Most people can see why this idea should exist. Because of the consensus, you’re competing in a saturated market of similar, if not the same ideas. Therefore, to stand out, you must show traction.
Possible
Why now?
It makes sense that this idea should exist, but it’s unclear whether there’s a market for this. To stand out, you have to convince investors on the market, and subsequently the market timing.
Preposterous
Why you?
Hands down, this is just crazy. You’re clearly in the non-consensus. Now the only way you can redeem yourself is if you have incredible insight and foresight. What’s the future you see and why does that make sense given the information we have today? If an investor doesn’t walk out of that meeting having been mind-blown on your lesson from the future, you’ve got no chance.
Signals by stage
Stage of investment
Key Question
Context
Pre-seed
Why you?
The earlier you go, the less quantitative data you have to support your bet. And therefore, your bet is largely on the founder. For me, it matters less their XX years of experience, but more so their expertise. In other words, insight. Can I learn something new in my first meeting (and consecutive ones too) with them?
At the pre-seed, there is also one more key signal I look for in founders – their level of focus. Rather than wanting to do everything, can they streamline their resources to tackle one thing? What is their minimum viable assumption they have to prove before they can build their MVP (or MLP – minimum lovable product)? Startups often die of indigestion, not starvation.
Seed
Why now?
By the seed stage these days, you’ve either found your product-market fit or really close to finding it. The larger your round, the more you’re feeling the pull of the market. Whereas pull can come be measured (i.e. daily organic sign ups, demand converting to supply in a marketplace, etc.), sometimes when you’re at the cusp of it, there’s a level of foresight that is required. Some leading indicator for the business often comes as a lagging indicator from industry trends. What is the inflection point(s) (political, socio-economic, technological, cultural) we are at today that is going to have compounding effects on the business?
Series A
Why this?
By the time you get to the A, you’re ready to scale. In other words, what you mainly need is to add fuel to the fire. I place a larger emphasis on traction here. Admittedly for me, compared to the two earlier stages, this is more of a numbers conversation. The best founders here have a very clear picture of what worked and didn’t work for the business. They’re already familiar with their main GTM channel, but are exploring new opportunities for channel-market fit where they need capital to test.
Not incredibly pertinent yet, but founders will have started thinking about their Act II. What’s the next product they’re going to offer to secure their immortality in the market?
In closing
A simple litmus test I often share with founders on signal is:
Your ability to raise capital is directly correlated with your ability to inspire confidence in your investor that you will get straight A’s with little to no help.
This isn’t just true for myself, but also most investors out there. While the best investors out there will always be there for you in your time of need, before they decide to jump aboard the same ship with you, you need to convince them that you’re a top 10% founder. Or a top 1% in-the-making.
While I dislike using the dating analogy, it’s an apt comparison in this case. You’re not going to share your deepest, least desirable secrets on your first date. You’re also not going around saying you’re the perfect – and I underscore perfect – partner without any flaws. ‘Cause that’s as much baloney as an unknown African prince in your inbox telling you to help him secure $5 million in gold bars by helping him set up a Swiss bank account with a deposit of $10K. It’s too good to be true. In reality, you’re most likely going to share that you have a number of great qualities, but you’re still growing in many ways.
Admit what you don’t know or don’t have. As long as it’s not mission critical or the biggest risk in your business (and if it is, figure that out before you raise VC funding), the investors who truly believe in you will understand. Always err on the side of honesty, but not bravado.
‘Cause you yourself are a signal. If you’ve got your bases covered and still have to go out of your way to convince an investor or try to flip their “no”, they’re probably not worth your time.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
Any views expressed on this blog are mine and mine alone. They are not a representation of values held by On Deck, DECODE, or any other entity I am or have been associated with. They are for informational and entertainment purposes only. None of this is legal or investment advice. Please do your own diligence before investing in startups and consult your own adviser before making any investments.
PMF is often nonobvious and guesswork in foresight, but incredibly obvious in hindsight. But the ability to foresee and measure an inflection point in the business is a common thread among the best founders in the world. For Rahul Vohra, that was when 40% or more of his customers responded with “very disappointed” to the survey question “How would you feel if you could no longer use Superhuman?” After all, the famous Peter Drucker did say, “You can’t manage what you can’t measure.”
Founders often find themselves pushing their product onto customers pre-PMF. But once they find PMF, they feel the pull of the market. In the words of David Sacks, when you find PMF, “the market is pulling product out of the startup.”
Much like PMF, for founders, there exhibits a similar level of pull. But its measurability is often not by quantitative metrics like PMF, but qualitative. At a virtual lunch last week, Founders Fund’s and Varda’s Delian Asparouhov shared his brutally candid remarks on living a fulfilling life.
One of the questions he answered was when did he know he just had to start Varda. Why didn’t he just stay a full-time VC? Delian called it the “mind virus.” When the problem hits you like a truck and you just can’t get rid of it. Once you get it, it infects your whole brain, and you can’t not think about it.
When you have more questions than answers. And each layer of questions gets more and more specific, and no longer generalist. In fact, the majority of questions that take up your mental real estate do not have membership in the:
First 500 questions about the topic in a generalist’s mind
First 100 questions in a specialist or expert’s mind space. In fact, one of the greatest litmus tests (not the only) you can administer is getting the “Oh f**k, how come I haven’t thought of that?” response.
Naivete matters
Paul Graham wrote an equally great piece on the topic. “Naive optimism can compensate for the bit rot that rapid change causes in established beliefs. You plunge into some problem saying ‘How hard can it be?’, and then after solving it you learn that it was till recently insoluble. Naivete is an obstacle for anyone who wants to seem sophisticated, and this is one reason would-be intellectuals find it so difficult to understand Silicon Valley.”
In the analogous words of Delian, “Just ask the technical experts, is this impossible? There’s a big difference between very, very difficult and impossible. Is it just a very technical religion where people say no or is it impossible?” There’s a superpower in knowing just enough to dream and reach for the “impossible”, but not enough to get trapped in the technical dogma of what is “possible.”
Great founders are armed with the ability to balance childlike wonder with optimistic pragmatism. Great founders dare to dream. It is neither thefirst, nor the last you’ll hear of James Stockdale on this blog. But nevertheless, I find his words to ring equally as true for the best founders who have graced this planet. “You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end – which you can never afford to lose – with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they may be.”
In closing
In sum, what is founder-market fit? It is when passion turns into obsession. When founders are married to the problem, as opposed to the solution. When curiously passionate founders cannot stop themselves from doing everything in their power to engineer the solution to a problem deeply personal to them.
Here’s a simple way to think about it, using an equation most scientists are familiar with.
F = ma
Or otherwise, known as Newton’s second law. Force is the product of mass and acceleration. Think of force as the gravitational pulling force a founder has. Mass as the first impression a founder makes in meeting number one. Some permutation of their insights, their background and experience, and their domain expertise. And acceleration as the multiplicative velocity in which the founder learns. Subsequently, we have an equation that looks more or less like this:
Founder-market fit = (initial impression) x (founder’s compounding rate of learning)
For investors, a good sign of that is when that passion is contagious in the first meeting. And founders learn incredibly quickly (as a function of action) in every consecutive one after. The gravitational pull a founder brings where you just want to put down everything to listen to them. As investors, we love paying for that world-class education.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
In the month before I started this blog in 2019, I had written 20 odd blogposts as a safety net in case I ran out of ideas in my weekly cadence. Most of which never had the chance to stand in the limelight, including my first one on intuition. Particularly, my one on intuition. Over the years, I’ve honed my own “intuition” – if I may be bold enough to call it that – on vetting startups. My intuition today is very different beast from my intuition 2.5 years back. This essay is a product of such constantly evolving self-discovery.
The spark of my intuition
When I first started my career in VC at Berkeley’s SkyDeck, I reached out to about 70-80 investors for a coffee chat, in which I posed one of my now favorite questions. What is the difference between a good and a great VC? Unsurprisingly, but frustratingly enough, most of the answers came in the form of “intuition.” Or its cousin, “pattern recognition.”
To me, who was still so new to venture, that was the best and worst non-answer I could get. Yet despite knowing that there was truth in their answer, I was still directionless. It wasn’t until an afternoon walk through San Francisco’s South Park with a very generous, but curt gentleman who carried quite the luggage beneath both of his eyes that I got the answer I wasn’t looking for.
“See a shitload of startups. When you see 10, pick your top 2. Then see 100, pick your top 2. Then see 1000, and again, pick your top 2. You’re going to notice that your podium will look quite different the more founders you meet with and the more startups you see.”
Recently, Plexo‘s Lo Toney told our fellows at DECODE the exact same thing:
And so, in hopes to guide someone in my shoes when I first started, here’s how I think about building intuition. Of course, I am a human and will always be a work in progress. It’s likely that next year I will see things differently than I see them today. Nevertheless this essay is a record of my thoughts today in early 2022.
Where to find a “shitload” of startups
There are multiple avenues these days for deal flow, including, but not limited to:
Accelerators and their respective demo days, like YC, ODX, Techstars, and what’s quite popular these days, Stonks
Hackathons, albeit most of these are ideas pre-incorporation
Classrooms
Pitch competitions
Events, like conferences and trade shows
Newsletters and publications
Podcasts
Twitter
Friends, family members, and former colleagues
When I first jumped into venture, I used to ask my friends who I knew were early adopters (a product of going to a school in the Bay Area, like Berkeley) of products to recommend me 3-5 startups/products every other week. When they did, I would treat them out to boba. And if they introduced me to the founders for those products that I’d be excited to talk to, I’d treat my friends out to a small meal – around $10-15. At the same time, at SkyDeck, I tried to sit in on as many meetings as I could, particularly the ones around deal evaluation at the beginning of every cohort.
While I do recommend all of the above, the best training grounds for developing intuition is when you talk to founders yourself.
The five senses
Google defines intuition as “the ability to understand something immediately, without the need for conscious reasoning.”
Source: Google
So, by definition, intuition is subconscious – built upon the brain’s natural ability to recognize patterns. An apt synonym, according to the trillion-plus dollar company… “sixth sense.” A sixth sense birthed from the intense neural processing of the five other senses. So, it was only logical for me to understand the sixth sense by first fully comprehending my five others. That said, I use the five-sense nomenclature loosely, but it nevertheless has become my guiding framework for venture decisions over the years.
Smell
“I invested based on my sense of smell.” These are the very words Softbank’s Masayoshi Son shared about his early investment in Alibaba. And he said the same about his investment into Yahoo! In fairness, his words make for good PR. And may just seem like smokes and mirrors. But for Son to have chosen Jack Ma out of the 20 prospective Chinese entrepreneurs he met with to invest in, he must be onto something.
There are two ways to develop an acute sense of smell as an investor, which you can develop in tandem.
Spending a lot of time looking into the market
Talking to many founders
On the former, we’ve been seeing a number of funds incubate their own startup ideas as a result of investors becoming deep subject-matter experts, but are discontent with the current ideas or teams on the market right now. Two examples include General Catalyst and Founders Fund. Draw market maps. Write research reports. Follow the experts on socials or on their blogs. Even better, talk to them as well. As a general warning, it’s hard being a generalist here. I would pick a few industries and/or functions you’re excited about or knowledgeable in already. Go deep before you go wide.
A few questions that have served me well include:
What kind of inflection points are we at in the market? In what areas have headwinds become tailwinds?
What are the technological, political, and/or socio-economic trends to be aware of right now? And where do these trends set up the world tomorrow to be?
I really encourage investors here to dream a little bit. To envision a world given these trends in which you’d be excited to have future generations live in.
On the latter, while Masayoshi talked to only 20, you can assume you he went through at least ten times that number of decks and business ideas. There’s no better practice than being in the field. Assuming you’ve taken step one (i.e. researching the market), one of the best litmus tests I’ve used to gauge a founder is their ability to riff on adjacent subjects to the business with me. Are they capable of going on tangents that really demonstrate domain expertise? Or are they caught up in the myopia of just their business?
Taste
There’s two kinds of tastes in which I look for, almost subconsciously, now.
Have they tasted excellence?
Have they tasted blood?
On excellence, many investors out there look for prior success in the field. For instance, previously founder of a unicorn exit, early employee or key executive at a now-successful company, or former big-time investor. Admittedly, there are only a small handful of these individuals out there. But I knew in my early days of scouting, I was at a massive disadvantage here for two major reasons.
I didn’t have strong connections with most of this subset of the entrepreneurial market.
This was also a founder persona I didn’t have unique insight to. In fact, it was general consensus to always take first meetings with these individuals in the venture industry. And as I learned early in my venture career, you make money either if you’re right on consensus or right on non-consensus. The latter of which is counted in multiples instead of percentages, which I’ve written about here and here.
In knowing so, I look for excellence, period. Have they tasted earned glory in any discipline? Do they know what it’s like to succeed in their field? And do they know what it takes to get there? On the flip side, do they know how hard it was to get there?
On the other hand, for blood, I want to know a founder’s propensity for conflict resolution. When was the last time they fundamentally disagreed with their co-founders? And how did they resolve it? Conflicts are inevitable. They’re bound to arise when you’re putting so much at stake for a common goal. I care less about the fact that they do come up, but more about that when they do, the team doesn’t just fall apart.
Every once in a while, I might disagree with the founder as well. And hear I look for the founder’s knee-jerk reaction and their ability to engage in thoughtful discussion. That does not mean they cannot disagree. Neither am I looking for another yes-person. But are they capable of helping me, and themselves, explore new horizons? Are they open-minded enough to entertain new possibilities, but still hold a remarkable level of focus to their 12-month horizon?
Touch
How high-touch or low-touch is this business? How much legwork does an investor need to do for this business to 10x its KPIs (within the next 12 months)?
For me, during my first meeting with the founder, ideally before, I try to answer two very simple questions:
What is the biggest risk of this business?
And is the person who can solve this risk on the team slide/in the room?
99% of the time, the person who can solve the biggest risk of the business has to be in the room. For instance, if it’s a machine-learning (ML) product, it’s a technical risk. So at least one of the co-founders must be a technical genius, not three MBAs. If it’s a B2B SaaS product, it’s a distribution risk. Meaning someone on the team must have deep connections to key decision makers to their target customers. In the early days, that’s really just at least one to two big-name customers. And ten other referenceable businesses. The second biggest risk is sales, and that I count on the founders’ ability to hustle.
1% of the time, and this is probably an exaggeration, you just have to really believe in the founder AND the product or market.
Hearing
Do founders spend more time talking, or more importantly, listening to their customers than they do in Rapunzel’s tower?
While I don’t ask all of them (since we’re guaranteed to run out of time before we run out of topics), here are the questions I consider when assessing how boots-on-the-ground a founder is:
What are customers saying about their product? The good? And the bad?
How did they acquire their first users/customers outside of their existing first degree network? Where from? What messaging do they use?
What is their customer win rate? In knowing so, what worked and what didn’t? At what point in the onboarding process do customers churn? What are their assumptions for why churn happens?
Do they know the numbers of their business (and ideally the market) like the back of their hand? For numbers of the market, are they able to recall the sources of most important numbers? For product metrics, how well do they know the main ones, like engagement, churn, monthly growth rates (over the past 3 months), net retention, and so on? Every so often, there’s a number or two, the founders are not aware of. And it’s fine. The test is once they realize their blind spot, how quickly do they move to patch it up? Subsequently, report back to me about their updated data measurements.
Of course, my job is not to distract founders. And I really try my best not to, so I don’t ask they measure superfluous metrics, unless I really do believe they’re crucial to the business.
Because I usually talk with founders who are pre-product-market fit, I usually lead with the question, “what does product-market fit look like to you?” Are they able to arrive at an actionable and measurable metric to optimize for? And can they back up why that metric is a good proxy for product-market fit?
(In)Sight
Can this founder teach me something new? Something that I never thought of or heard before, but makes complete sense. Is it a preposterous idea but backed by logic? Or does the founder have an original (and money-making) angle to what is already unoriginal? As an investor, especially as you see more startup ideas, the latter question is likely to surface more than the former.
Once the original insight is uncovered, it is then up to me to figure out the potential energy of the insight. How far can this insight take this team? Is it likely that this insight will uncover more insights down the road?
As an investor, you want to be right on the insight and team, not one or the other. Mike Maples Jr. articulates it best when he said, “We realize, oh no, this team doesn’t have the stuff to bend the arc of the present to that different future. Because I like to say, it’s not enough. […] I’d say that’s the first mistake we’ve made is we were right about the insight, but we were wrong about the team.”
“I’d say the reverse mistake we’ve made is the team just seems awesome, and we just can’t look past the fact that they didn’t articulate good inflections, and they can’t articulate a radically different future. They end up executing to a local maximum, and we have an okay, but not great outcome.”
In closing
Seedscout’s Mat Sherman wrote a great Twitter thread last month to help founders who are outsiders raise venture funding.
The no bullshit guide to raising angel funding/venture capital as an outsider.
The fact of the matter is that despite the venture industry being a rather well-connected circle of individuals and firms, most entrepreneurs – both currently and aspiring – are outsiders. If you can’t hit up a close friend to write you a couple million dollars, you’re an outsider. This essay, while written for new investors, hopefully, is equally useful as a guide for founders looking for some insight as to how investors think. Or at the very minimum, how I think.
Any thoughts here are mine and mine alone. They are for informational and entertainment purposes only. None of this is legal or investment advice. Please do your own diligence before investing in startups and consult your own adviser before making any investments.
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What is play to you but work to everyone else? Or said differently, what do you love doing that many others would hate or get bored of quickly?
This isn’t an original self-query. I want to say I heard it years ago on one of Tim Ferriss’ episodes, but the exact one escapes me. Yet, recently, my friends and colleagues remind me of this more and more. In the ultimate shortage of labor, more than ever before, people are rethinking what career means to them and what a meaningful career means. I’ve had friends become full-time live streamers, NFT creators, inventors, fiction novelists, artisans… you name it, and I bet you someone that I know – hell someone you know – has dabbled or jumped head-first into it. It truly is the era of the Great Resignation.
Now this question isn’t a call to arms to leave whatever you’re doing. Rather a direction of clarity that may help you live a more enriching life. Something to pursue in your down time. Until you can find a way to get paid to do so – unless you happen to have 20-30 years of runway from previous riches. The same is true if you’re an aspiring founder. Work on your project part-time, until you are ready to take it full-time either with investment capital or revenue.
For me, the answer to the above question is:
Writing (to think)
Meeting, and more specifically, learning from passionately curious and curiously passionate people (what can I say, I’m a glutton for inspiration)
Becoming a world-class questioner (you’ve probably guessed this one from the DGQ series)
Collecting quotes and phrasings that resonate (a few of which are repeat offenders on my blog)
Helping people realize their dreams (something that was much easier when I only had 20 friends, but much harder when I’m adding zeros to the right)
Many of the above have become synonymous with my job description over the years. Did I predict I would fall into venture capital? No. Frankly, it was a result of serendipity and staying open-minded to suggestions from people I really respect.
While this may come off as virtue signaling, to me, I’m willing to, did lose, and continue to lose sleep over each and every one of the above activities. And if I know anything about myself, my goalposts are likely to change over time. Not drastically, but fine-tuned over time.
The DGQ series is a series dedicated to my process of question discovery and execution. When curiosity is the why, DGQ is the how. It’s an inside scoop of what goes on in my noggin’. My hope is that it offers some illumination to you, my readers, so you can tackle the world and build relationships with my best tools at your disposal. It also happens to stand for damn good questions, or dumb and garbled questions. I’ll let you decide which it falls under.
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A founder recently asked me how investors would perceive her going through two different accelerator programs. Specifically, what would investors think if she took dilutive capital from two investors who care about ownership targets, yet have similar, if not the same, value adds to her business?
How each type of investor thinks about dilution
It’s a great question. Unsurprisingly, a nuanced one as well.
Honestly, a “messy” cap table or early dilution is an excuse investors give when they’re not sold on you or the business. Investors regress to the “why this”, or otherwise known as, traction, when you haven’t convinced them on “why you.”
Investors want to be excited about you. They want to brag about you to their partnership, colleagues and friends. But if you don’t give them a strong reason to, they’re going to regress to what they know will return them capital. Predictability. And that comes in the form of traction. But I digress.
If Max Levchin or Phil Libin or Elon Musk or Justin Kan – pick your favorite serial entrepreneur with unicorn exits under their belt – wanted to raise for a new startup, no matter what it is or how early, people are gonna jump on the opportunity to regardless of how saturated the cap table is.
Let’s stand in the shoes of an investor for a second. Of which there are three main kinds of early investors.
Angels
Non-lead VCs and syndicate leads
VCs who lead rounds
For individual angels, ownership targets don’t matter. They just want a piece of the action. In fact, multiple sources of signal and validation give them more confidence to invest. Especially if you’ve taken previous or current checks from your small handful of top tier VCs. These angels’ check sizes are negligible on the cap table, so they won’t end up crowding anyone else out.
On the other hand, notice how I bucketed non-lead VCs and syndicate leads into the same category. Why? These investors are writing bigger checks. They won’t price the round. And they move a lot faster if someone with a great track record is leading the round. Once again, ownership also doesn’t matter, but great co-investors do. As long as ownership targets don’t matter, the excuse of dilution is merely lip service. The story here is “I just need to get in the best deals, so I can raise my next fund from LPs.” Or “I need build my track record as an investor, so I can raise a fund one day.” I’m going to generalize here really quickly. While it doesn’t apply to every non-lead investor, it does apply to the vast majority. I dare say, 90% of them. These investors move on the combination of three levers:
Great traction
Great team,
And great co-investors – the last of which is often the most important.
The more of the above levers you have as a founder, the faster you’ll get a check from the above individuals and institutions. Why do great co-investors matter so much? Outside of branding and social rapport, their investors – their LPs – also want to invest in these top deals led by these funds, but often can’t invest into these top-tier funds since everyone wants to get into a16z or Sequoia. In fact, for many of these top-tier funds, there’s a massive waitlist of LPs.
Finally, lead VCs. Ownership does matter. Really, this is the only audience you need to worry about when it comes to the topic of early dilution. While you as a founder should be dilution-preserving, sometimes, taking the capital (and subsequently, the dilution) is the best option. Maybe you really need something from an accelerator or an early investor that would be hard to get for you yourself. At that point, their capital becomes optimization capital. Early checks can get you from A to B faster, with less burn potentially, and with less detours.
So, the question you have to figure out if you take subsequent capital injections is that each time you dilute the cap table, did you reach an important milestone? What’s worrying is if you keep diluting your cap table without making meaningful progress each time. Think in the framework of milestone-based financing. Raise what you need, while giving you and your team an appropriate margin of error.
In closing
As a footnote, it’s also important to consider how much equity you as the founder will have left upon exit. If you’re going through large amounts of early dilution, you’re going to have very little upside unless you go through a massive exit. Unlike investors who invest in many businesses and have diversified their risk appetite, you, the founder, have put all your eggs in one basket. So if you care about the upside, you want to reduce dilution unless there is an absolute necessity to raise capital.
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I’m a big fan of self-deprecating humor, but this isn’t one of those moments. Rather it’s a learning moment. While the above question is a lagging indicator for personal growth, it nevertheless deserves to be measured. After all, as the great Peter Drucker would say, you cannot manage what you cannot measure.
The timeframe of evaluation
Why a month? Why not a week? Or not a year?
In the business world, there’s a concept called the rule of 72. Effectively, 72 divided by the growth rate is the time it takes to double. For instance, if you’re growing 30% month-over-month, 72 divided by 30 is 2.4. So, if you’re growing revenue at 30% every month, you’re going to double your revenue in roughly two and a half months.
It is equally as analogous for personal growth.
time it takes to shock yourself = 72 / rate of learning
Let’s say you’re a first-time founder, and you only knew 10 things about how to start a business. But every day, you learn one more thing – via podcasts, articles, blogs, classes, you name it. Give or take a 10% growth rate. You will double your knowledge in about a week. Hopefully enough to shock the you from a week prior. Or take another example, many self-help books ask you to commit to getting 1% better every day. Assuming you consistently do that, you would have doubled your experience in about 2.5 months.
That goes to say, the faster you want to grow, the shorter the timeframe should be for you to look back and reflect on your “stupidity.” For me, it is in my nature to be hungry for knowledge, and I really love learning about things I thought I knew and what I didn’t know. For now, as learning is a top priority for me, a month sounds like a reasonable timeframe to shock myself. I also use the term “stupidity” lightly and with notes of self-deprecating love.
The shock factor
But how do you measure personal growth? Something rather intangible. It isn’t a number like revenue or user acquisition. Some people might have a set of resolutions or goals that is tangible and quantitative – say read two books a month or exercise an hour four days a week. Great goals, but they are often based on the assumption that movement is progress. The two aren’t mutually exclusive, but neither are they synonymous. The former – movement – lacks retrospection.
There were, are, and will be days, weeks, and months, we may just be busy. Our schedule is packed. We’re a duck paddling furiously underwater. And we’re gasping for air. And while our body and mind are exhausted, our body and mind have not expanded. I know I’m not alone when I think to myself, “Wow, I did a lot, but I still feel like I’m not moving anywhere.”
Our brains are unfortunately also poor predictors of the future. We use past progress as indicators of future progress. But while history often rhymes, it does not repeat. Our predictions end up being guesstimates at best.
So I look into the past. I measure my own personal growth emotionally – by shock, very similar to how Tim Urban measures progress of the human race (which I included at the end of a previous essay). I don’t know what the future will hold and neither will I make many predictions of what the future will hold for me. If I knew, I’d have made a fortune on the stock market already, in startups, or on crypto already. What I can commit to is my relentless pursuit of taking risks, making mistakes, and trying things that scare the bejesus out of me. Since only by making new mistakes will I grow as a person. What I am equipped with now can be mapped out by the scar tissue I’ve accumulated.
Coming full circle, what’ll make me realize and appreciate my mistakes and failures more is knowing that as a greenhorn I was laughably stupid.
But if, in retrospect, David from a month ago sounds like quite the sensible person, my growth will have gone from exponential to linear. Or worse, flatlined.
For founders
And now that I’m thinking aloud – or rather, writing aloud (which may deserve its indictment into the #unfiltered series), this might be a great line of questions to ask founders as well.
As a founder, what was the last dumb thing you did? When was that?
And before that, what was the second most recent dumb thing you did?
And the third most recent?
There’s the commonly repeated saying in the venture world. Investors invest in lines, not dots. Two’s a line. Three’s a curve. I want to see how fast you’ve been growing and learning.
Why such a question?
If we’re in it for the long run, I wanna assess how candid and self-aware you are. Pitch meetings often depict a portrait of perfection. But founders, like all humans, aren’t perfect. For that matter, neither are investors.
Venture capital is impatient capital. We demand aggressive timelines, and honestly, quite toxic to most people in the world. Given that, if you’re going to learn how to hustle after investors invest, you’re going to have a tough time convincing investors. But if the hustle is already in your DNA, that bias to action lends much better to the venture model.
The DGQ series is a series dedicated to my process of question discovery and execution. When curiosity is the why, DGQ is the how. It’s an inside scoop of what goes on in my noggin’. My hope is that it offers some illumination to you, my readers, so you can tackle the world and build relationships with my best tools at your disposal. It also happens to stand for damn good questions, or dumb and garbled questions. I’ll let you decide which it falls under.
Subscribe to more of my shenaniganery. Warning: Not all of it will be worth the subscription. But hey, it’s free. But even if you don’t, you can always come back at your own pace.
Straight off the bat, you might have realized that the 10th issue of the DGQ series – damn good questions – starts off with a non-question. And it is intentional by design. I often waste a number of calories constructing the perfect question. And in many ways, I get very, very close to what I deem as perfection. Exhibit A, B, and C.
But over the course of constructing the perfect question and its subsequent research, I often uncover the answer I am seeking… before I even ask it to the intended designee. I don’t mean for the odd question here and there amidst spontaneous conversation. But the predestined ones to be asked in:
Fireside chats
Intro conversations
Coffee chats with individuals where I’m punching above my weight class
Podcast interviews
Social experiments
First dates (possibly self-incriminating)
Accompanied by the excuse of creating conversation, I ask it despite the since-acquired knowledge. Sometimes to the wonder and amazement of the recipient, but more often than not to the boredom of myself. While the words that flutter out of my mouth may sound like a question, it ends up merely being a statement rearranged on a NY Times crossword puzzle.
In reframing questions for myself, I realized… If I knew all the answers to the questions I would ask, that’d make for quite a boring life. While boredom only surfaced a minority of the time, it occurred noticeably enough times. If I had a mirror to myself every time I asked a question, I imagine I would find myself asking the ones I have the answers to already with a furrowed brow.
Last year, in the relentless pursuit of being a better host for structured conversations, I over-optimized for shock and delightful surprise. Shock became my unfortunate currency for my personal delight. Rather than enlightenment, education, and inspiration. In the construction of the “perfect question,” while protecting my downside – in terms of embarrassment, I capped my upside.
So, this essay is a reminder to myself. Ask dumb questions. It’s okay. It’s only by reinventing yourself again and again through the ashes of unintentional ignorance can you rise like a phoenix.
I’m reminded of a quote by quite a contrarian philosopher, Karl Popper, but nevertheless quite appropriate here. “Good tests kill flawed theories; we remain alive to guess again.”
If you’re reading this essay, be prepared for a lot more dumb questions from me. Dumb, not garbled. Dumb and simple. I’ll continue to do my homework before conversations. But if I’ve found the answer already, I’m going to keep myself accountable to either find new questions or cancel the meeting. Cheers to the motif of exploration! And I’ll see you where I cannot foresee.
The DGQ series is a series dedicated to my process of question discovery and execution. When curiosity is the why, DGQ is the how. It’s an inside scoop of what goes on in my noggin’. My hope is that it offers some illumination to you, my readers, so you can tackle the world and build relationships with my best tools at your disposal. It also happens to stand for damn good questions, or dumb and garbled questions. I’ll let you decide which it falls under.
Subscribe to more of my shenaniganery. Warning: Not all of it will be worth the subscription. But hey, it’s free. But even if you don’t, you can always come back at your own pace.
Back in my sophomore year of college, I was running to be the vice president of a business organization. Part of the requirement to run as one was to shadow at least two executives from previous generations who held the same role. Brownie points if you shadowed the broader executive team as well. The goal was to better prepare yourself by increasing the context you had about a new role.
I checked off those boxes with flying colors. In fact I ended up talking to more than 20 other executives and other key campus constituents we would be interfacing with. Along the way, I shared what I would do, not do, and do differently compared to previous roles. I also told them how I would forever change the organization and its impact on campus and students. Frankly, I felt like I was a on a roll. I was on top of the world.
Yet one winter night (it’s always the winter nights that get you), when I was on my haughty high horse, one person stopped me in my tracks. With one simple question. “What is your selfish motivation?”
“I’m going to change…”
“No, David… what is your selfish motivation?“
Flash-forward
Last week, one of my favorite hustlers reached out to me. She was planning to start a newsletter soon and wanted some advice from a fellow writer. After a few exchanges asynchronously, it became apparent that her biggest obstacle was keeping to a schedule. If you’re a frequenter here, you’ll have noticed I’ve already lost all semblance of a schedule other than publishing weekly. Some weeks I publish on Mondays. Others on Tuesdays. Some weeks see two essays. Others only one. But I have yet to lose my streak of publishing weekly. But I digress.
There’s a large graveyard filled with content creators who post ten or less times. Off the cuff, I dare say 90%. Prior to this blog, two of my other blogs were also no stranger to the obituary.
So, I posed the same question that stumped me all those years back. What is your selfish motivation?
What is your selfish motivation?
Most people, especially in the realm of entrepreneurship, job interviews, politics, and PR stunts, share their selfless motivations. Everyone’s a Samaritan. While there is some truth to it, everyone needs a really good selfish motivation.
On your best days, if your project is doing really well and you’re absolutely crushing it, your selfless motivation will be what you tell the latest press release, your cousins over the holidays – the story you pitch to others. The story you also tell yourself to give your job meaning. But on your worst days, when you want to give up, your selfish motivation is what’ll keep you going. When you’re at your worst, you won’t want to care for others. You care about yourself. What’ll keep you sane? If your selfish North Star isn’t strong enough, it’s easy to give up.
You need both. Your selfless motivation will help you reach for the stars. Your selfish motivation will prevent you from hitting rock bottom.
For example, for this blog, my selfless motivations are:
Democratizing access to resources and education to help people move the world’s economy forward,
Empowering founders to not fall through the same potholes I or other founders fell through – to make new mistakes not old, and
Empowering and inspiring others to live more enriching lives.
It’s what I tell others. My lofty goal that’ll make writing this blog meaningful to me.
On the other hand, my selfish motivations are:
I write to think. My thoughts are so much clearer on paper than if I just speak them. If I don’t write things down, I’m a mess.
I forget things easily. Short term memory loss. And my blog is a way for me to catalogue my own learnings.
I feel much more comfortable being vulnerable with strangers than with friends. So my blog helps me relieve much of my stress and anxiety.
I am neither as good as people say I am nor as bad as people say I am. This blog keeps me honest.
In closing
That same winter night was the day of the winter equinox. I don’t mean to dramatize my little anecdote, but I nevertheless I do find it provides a little flavor to the story.
“No, David… what is your selfish motivation?”
“I don’t follow.”
“I ask every officer candidate this question. There will be days that you will hate the job more than you will love it. And I need to know if you have it in you to weather those days.”
I don’t remember what I told him that night. I don’t think it was a particularly honest answer. Or maybe I was honest. But it wasn’t enough. I didn’t get his vote of confidence, but I did enough legwork to get the approval of others.
In the end, I got the position. And he was right. Times got tough. There were days I hated the job. And on those days, in particular, I didn’t do anything remotely close to “changing the organization and its impact on campus.”
#unfiltered is a series where I share my raw thoughts and unfiltered commentary about anything and everything. It’s not designed to go down smoothly like the best cup of cappuccino you’ve ever had (although here‘s where I found mine), more like the lonely coffee bean still struggling to find its identity (which also may one day find its way into a more thesis-driven blogpost). Who knows? The possibilities are endless.
Stay up to date with the weekly cup of cognitive adventures inside venture capital and startups, as well as cataloging the history of tomorrow through the bookmarks of yesterday!
